Tridents and Tributes
by woahgingersdohavesouls
Summary: The origin story of Annie and Finnick, as narrated by Finnick and starting with his first Hunger Games. Annie doesn't come into the story until later on.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: The First Reaping

I don't remember how I felt when I woke up that morning. Anxious? Scared? Perfectly fine? None of it mattered though. All I knew, when I woke up that spring morning, was that I would be alright. I wasn't in danger. There were hundreds of other kids, kids whose names were entered over fifty times thanks to the tesserae. And there were always volunteers, or almost always. District Four was one of the "Career Districts", somebody who had been training for this would get in there. Not me. Not Finnick Odair. I was only fourteen, meaning my name would only be entered three times. I hadn't signed up for the tesserae, I hadn't needed to. My family was doing fine; we were fishermen, getting a plethora of good catches every day. I wasn't going to be called. I would be fine. I would survive another year of the reaping, another year of the Hunger Games.

I sat in bed, staring at the ceiling, reassuring myself everything would be fine, when I heard my mom call my name. "Finnick! Breakfast!" Her voice sounded strained – she was nervous. She always was on reaping day. I remember the day I turned twelve, she burst out crying during my birthday celebration. She ran out of the room, and my father followed, trying his hardest to comfort her. All I heard her say was "I knew we shouldn't have had kids!" Back then, I had thought she was mad at me or hated me for some reason. I thought she didn't want me. I locked myself in my room for a week. Now, I knew. I knew she didn't want the ever-present threat of a brutal death hanging over her child's head. I guess that's why she only had one. Bearing the pain for me was enough.

Finally, I pulled off the thin covers and got up. My room was a complete mess. My old fishing gear, the stuff I had stopped using years ago, lined the white-carpeted floor. I made my way through the disaster area and headed downstairs in my light blue sleeping shirt and pants. When I made my way into the kitchen, I silently watched my mom's back, fussing over the dishes. She couldn't handle this; I don't know how she was supposed to go through the next five years of reapings, until my name got taken out for good when I turned nineteen. I could never understand how the Capitol could do this to millions of people across Panem. It not only affected the kids, tributes or not, but also their parents – all because of some stupid rebellion that had happened over six decades ago. _Well, _I thought to myself_, let the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games begin._

My mother turned around, two plates in her hands, and let out a yelp when she saw me. "You scared me!" she berated, as she ushered me into one of the chairs. "Here, eat." She stuck one of the plates in front of my face, and I saw it was filled with bread, a flounder fillet and a couple of eggs. I dug in, not realizing how starving I was. "Your father wants to go fishing before the reaping. Be ready in twenty minutes." She put her plate down on the table as if she was going to eat, but just stood there, staring at it. After a minute, she walked away into her room, shutting the door behind her.

I swallowed the last bite, and grabbed a quick drink of water as soon as my father came into the room. He looked at me, giving me a sad smile. He tried his hardest not to let the reaping days get to him, but they did. I saw it in his face, in his eyes. The same sea green eyes I had looked down on me, a mixture of pity and mercy. "You ready?" he asked. I nodded, walking outside to the shed with him. The grass was getting long, but cutting it would have to wait until the day was over, until the celebrations were up. The shed was falling apart, the door only half on its hinges when we pulled it open. We grabbed three of our biggest nets, a couple of fishing rods and my trident. As soon as I pulled it out, I stared at it. It had become so useful to me in the past few years. I pulled out bigger, more expensive fish with it than I ever could have done with the nets or the rods. I inspected it, as I always did when handling it. There a slight scratch right in the middle, from when I first used it and slipped, dropping it on the deck of the boat. Other than that, it was impeccable. I don't know how I could survive without my trident.

We made our way out to the sea, getting a fairly good catch for the day. After a couple of hours, we started heading back to get ready for the reaping. The entire way home, dad was silent. He would occasionally cough to get ready to say something, and then change his mind. I just kept looking at him, and when we got home I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. _Everything is going to be alright. _I wanted to tell him that, but I couldn't get the words out. What if everything wasn't going to be alright? He quickly pulled away from me, embarrassed. Affection wasn't his forte. I had gotten from my mother.

As soon as we got home, she made a big fuss, dressing me in a new pair of black pants and a white button down. I had to look good for the start of the massacre. It was all just a sick joke. I got changed, and came out into the entry, waiting for my parents to follow. Mom grabbed me, hugging me tight. She whispered in my ear, "good luck, Finn." I nodded, swallowing hard. I would be fine.

We arrived at the reaping ceremony. The crowd was thick as I made my way to the boy's section, saying hello to a couple of guys from school. Dillion, one of my closest friends, gave me a nerve-wracking look, and I felt his pain. He was fourteen, my age, meaning he had his three required entries. Being from a poorer family though, he had entered his name one extra time each year to sign up for the tesserae, meaning he was entered six times, and I couldn't help but think that the odds were not in his favor as the ceremony began. The mayor called us all to settle down. I wasn't paying attention much; I was more focused on looking through the crowd. I started listening long enough to hear them announce the girl tribute. Someone named Kendall. She looked a bit older than me, probably sixteen. Then, they started searching through the bowl of names to pick out the boy tribute. I held my breath and looked over at Dillion, who had turned completely pale. I waited for what felt like an eternity to them to call who it was. I was fine. I couldn't have been me.

I heard the words "Finnick Odair." My whole world seemed to freeze.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Sixty-Fifth Annual Hunger Games

I had been called. My name had come out of the evil little glass ball that held the fates of hundreds of kids from the district. Finnick Odair. That's what they had said. Why had they said my name? There was no way… What about Dillion, whose name was entered double the amount my own was? What about Kelvin, who was eighteen and must have had his name entered at least fifty times? Why me?

The mayor asked for any volunteers. An older girl, muscular and strong, stood up for Kendall. Placidia Ambros, a Career tribute. I knew she must have been, she'd been training her whole life for the Games. I waited for another boy to stand up, to take my place. There had to be a Career to save me. No one came though. I was on my own, and I was going to die in the Hunger Games.

The rest of the week went by in a blur. I got an eight in my training. Everyone in the Capital loved me for my good looks. None of it mattered to me though. My good looks would be wasted because of them. I knew I was going to die.

My mentor, Mags, was an older woman who had won the 11th Hunger Games. She was ancient, and at first I hated her. Of course I would get stuck with the old lady, who, to me, had probably won out of sheer luck. Eventually though, I realized Mags was a lot smarter and stronger than I thought. She was cunning too. She knew what to do, and how to do it. She trained me to run faster, work harder and charm the hell out of the Capital. "Popularity is power" she would say to me. So, I did what she said. I wooed the Capital, got them all to love me. They would do whatever I needed. And when Mags got enough of them to contribute to my cause, she got me exactly what I needed to win. A trident.

It wasn't my own trident of course, this one was much better. Stronger, newer, more flexible. I used my strengths – knotting nets, making traps, and wielding my weapon – to win. I was ruthless. I killed people. The tributes from District 5, one of the Careers from District 2, and the little boy from District 11, I had killed them all. In my defense, I didn't mean to kill Davis, the little one from 11. I thought he was Placidia, blundering around a corner of trees. The night he died, the night he was murdered, I couldn't sleep. I threw up, cried, yelled out, but nothing would bring him back. I moved on, I had to, and six days later I secured the win. I, Finnick Odair, had survived the impossible. I would never have to live through the pain of the Hunger Games again.

Instead, new pains hit me. I had nightmares, and was forced to re-watch the broadcasts of the Games. Forced to re-live the pain and the murder almost every day. But, I could overcome these feelings. Soon, the wound wasn't as raw and I could begin to forget about everything that had happened. The nightmares lessened, got less vivid. They started broadcasting new Games on the televisions. Girls also helped me to forget. Everyday a new girl tried to help me ease my pain. Dating was easy for me, I could be someone else, hide the thoughts going through my head. I hated getting all of their hopes up though. As soon as the date was over, I went straight home. I didn't want to hurt them in anyway. I knew what it was like to be hurt. So, I went to my house and just sat in my bed, staring at the wall, knowing that way I couldn't hurt any of them. They all seemed disappointed when I fled, a bit hurt. They wondered if it was something they did. I wanted to tell at least one of them the truth, that I just couldn't handle any of it. But, I couldn't admit that. I would put on a happy face and continue to pretend to be someone I was not. I believed one day I would forget everything that happened, that the world would be happy again. It could have happened. But then, the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games began.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Happy Birthday

I would come of age right before the Sixty-Ninth Hunger Games began. A month before I turned eighteen, I was told I would be granted a special visit from President Snow on my birthday. I had never really heard of him coming to the districts before. It made me nervous, but there was nothing I could do but wait to see what he wanted, why he was coming here.

The week before he came, I began chewing my nails. When I ran out of nails to chew, I started biting the skin around their remnants. I broke the skin easily, bleeding over everything. I got my blood on the new nets, my bed sheets, and on my old, trusty trident. I couldn't wash it off either. President Snow's visit would forever stain my life.

I waited and pondered and on my birthday he came, as promised. We were in the middle of a small celebration including my parents, Mags, and a couple of other winners from past years. Coral, my date for the week, had also showed up. She was beaming, as if it was such an honor to be invited. I had just blown out the candles when two of the President's messengers from the Capital knocked on the door. My mother went to open it, and they barged inside, requesting me to take a short walk by the sea side with the president. I left the room quietly, and everyone watched me sullenly as I walked away.

When I got outside, I saw President Snow sitting on a small bench beside our house in Victor's Village. We were situated right near the water, and we both walked quietly to the sandy beach, with the messengers following about two hundred feet behind us. They must have been Snow's body guards, but they weren't wearing the traditional Peacekeeper's uniforms. Instead, they were wearing all black clothing, very padded and thick. Were they expecting a death threat to happen in District 4? As if. We were one of the more loyal districts. We might have protested the Capitol's decisions, but always in the privacy of our own thoughts. In the public eye, we worked to please Snow and the whole of Panem. There was no way any of us would be stupid enough to attack the president in the vicinity of our district. We had all seen what happened to 13.

After a brief silence, Snow looked at me, with a slight smile on his face. "Happy birthday, Finnick. How does it feel to be a man?"

"I wouldn't know, sir. I've only been eighteen for a few hours."

He chuckled lightly, as if what I said was funny. The next thing he said though had very dark undertones to it. "Even if you feel it or not, manhood has become you. Like any man, you will be faced with great responsibilities. Even more so for you, being a victor and a role model." He waited for me to respond to this, but I had nothing to say. I let him continue, uninterrupted. "Mr. Odair, the Capital loves you. You must know this, right?"

"I figured. They don't just send tridents out to anyone."

"Yes. The Capital did you a service. It helped you survive." _Survive a lethal game that the Capital itself had created. How was that a service?_ I kept my thoughts to myself though, and let him continue. "Now, you need to do the Capital a service back. You wouldn't be the first victor doing this of course. Most victors see it as an honor to the country. And why wouldn't it be? You will not only be working to please the citizens of the Capitol, you would be getting money. And that money, Mr. Odair, would go straight to me, to fund the whole of Panem. Would you be willing to take up this task?"

I was confused. "What task, sir?" Pleasing the citizens of the Capital? That didn't exactly sound like something I wanted to do.

"Could you really be that naïve?" He chuckled softly. "Let's just say you would be working to please the women. For a price, of course. You are such a lady's man already; I thought you would jump at the chance. There's a high price on your head Mr. Odair, and I understand why. You're magical to them. Powerful, strong, handsome, young. You can't refuse."

He wanted me to… to be his prostitute? To sell myself for him, to "fund the whole of Panem"? This couldn't be happening. And I wouldn't be the only victor who did this… did that mean that the rest of them, or the ones who were desirable anyway, they did this to? They just allowed Snow to corrupt them like that. Why?

"I don't know, sir. It's seems awfully …"

"Let me make this clear," he interrupted. "You will do this Mr. Odair. The Capital and Panem _need_ you to do it. They need you to fall in love with every girl you see, every girl who hands us a check. And if you refuse, let's just say the person, or people, you do actually fall in love with… They won't be very happy about it."

"Sir, you can't." I was dumbfounded. Was he threatening to kill my parents? The girls I had dated in the district? Mags, the mentor I had grown so close to? They were all innocent in this. I had never wished I was dead before, not even in the arena. I had fought to survive, and now I was regretting that decision.

"But I can. How could you doubt me or doubt the Capitol? Do you not realize who I am? Do you not remember 13? Don't do that to yourself, or your district, Finnick. Say yes. Say you'll do it. You don't want to live through the consequences."

My mind was reeling. How could they just do this to me? To anybody? It was a small task though, and to do it would mean protecting everyone I loved. I had to say yes. I nodded gravely. "I'll do it," I replied in a small voice. I had never felt so powerless.

"Excellent. We'll call you when we need you. I hope you like hovercraft rides, you'll be enjoying them frequently, unless you'd like to move to the Capitol?"

Was he asking me, or forcing me? I wanted to stay here, make sure my family was safe. "I'd rather not. I like it here."

"Fine, then. District 4 will remain your home." We started walking back to the house, once again in silence. This time though, there was a tension in the air. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to rip his face off, plunge him through with my trident. He walked me up the front steps and opened the door. Before I could walk in though, he grabbed my arm. "I suggest we keep this our little secret, Finnick. You like secrets, don't you? Every real man does."

I gently pulled my arm away and started walking in the entry. He didn't follow me; instead he stood by the doorway and reminded me that this would be my first year as a mentor in the games. He wished me luck and walked off, his body guards following.

I walked into the kitchen to see everyone gone, except my parents and Mags. We ate the rest of the cake in silence; nobody dared asked him what he wanted. I looked at Mags, wondering. Was she asked to do it too? When did she stop, when the people didn't want her anymore? She _was_ getting rather old.

Mags left soon after, wishing me a happy birthday as she went out the door. My parents still said nothing to me. I went up into my room, alone. I sat on the bed and started tearing up. I had to do it. I had to protect them. I couldn't let any of them get hurt because I was too weak. I was a survivor, and I would survive this.

Before I shut out the light and went to bed, I made a promise to myself. I vowed never to fall in love with anyone else, to put them in the danger my parents were already in. I couldn't live with myself if I did that to another person.


End file.
